


This Favors Thing

by ElenaCee



Series: Devil's Trap [14]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels Inter Se, Domestic Deckerstar, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, supporting OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: Chloe inadvertently takes a leaf from Lucifer's book to get the Devil to take care of his grieving brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A mostly filler episode that devolves into smut in the last chapter. If you don't like that, just stop after the first two :)
> 
> WARNING for suggested BDSM situations.
> 
> Someone asked me in the comments of the preceding part to try my hand at Lucifer's POV. Very happy to oblige.

 

“So,” Sachiel said, “your mind is made up? There’s nothing I can say to dissuade you?”

Suppressing a burst of irritation, Lucifer downed the last of his drink and looked around for another bottle. To his disappointment, however, the stark simplicity of Sachiel’s home offered nothing in the way of more libation. Seriously. The little bugger had been on Earth, what, fifty years, and  _this_  was how he was spending his time? Ikea and fruit smoothies, and half a bottle of blended whiskey?

Sometimes, Lucifer was convinced that all his siblings were defective in the pleasure department, and that, for some reason, he was the only Archangel with a full set of genes. Yet another thing he’d ask Dad about if only the bloody wanker would ever answer the bloody phone.

“What about this face -” he pointed at himself - “ is giving you the impression that you can talk me out of it?” It had been an effective phrase when the Detective had used it on him back then, and he was more than happy now to try it on his brother.

Results were indeterminate, though. Sachiel merely looked at him sadly. If he went on like that, he’d end up with permanent frown lines. “But think of the pain, Brother! You may be deliriously happy now, but one day, you’ll be bereft! Her loss will be crippling. Believe me, I know!”

“Argh,” Lucifer said in lieu of slapping Sach one. “How many times? I know! I’ve been in  _Hell,_  Brother, for  _eons,_  suffering in ways you can’t even imagine, all alone except for demons to keep me company, so it’s not like I don’t know what awaits after she’s gone. And, yes, I’m very aware that it’ll be pure torture. But right now, she’s -... she’s….” He trailed off, waving his hands while he cast about for the words to convey the wonder of having Chloe in his life, of her knowing him, of being able to be completely himself with her, of her accepting all of him, of her even being able to look at his repulsive true form and touching it and letting  _him_ touch  _her_ for crying out loud - and what wonders all that did for him.

Just take the past day he’d spent recovering from his injuries. She’s been there with him all the while, keeping him warm as he couldn’t stop shivering with lingering shock, holding him, caressing him, even bloody  _singing_ to him, letting him hold her in his arms when he needed to feel her close to him, her fingers either stroking his face or carding through the feathers on his back he could never quite reach, while he drifted in and out of sleep, feeling so safe and cared for and whole that he would be ready to swear up and down and even to Dear Old Dad Himself that he could feel his ancient, shriveled, burned, charred soul uncurl from the tight ball it had drawn into when he Fell, and relax in the new warmth suddenly surrounding it. That’s what she did for him, no questions asked, no return favor required.

Which was all the more amazing in view of what a literal and figurative miracle she was. Chloe Decker embodied a lot of, if not all, the good in humanity, and for some inexplicable reason, she had chosen to give her love to the Devil of her own free will.

There were a lot of moments - this being one of them - when Lucifer found himself unable to believe that this was truly his life.

Unaware of his helpless ruminations, Sachiel nodded, for once not saying anything, instead giving him the time he needed to express himself. Maybe his stay on Earth had at least managed to instill some manners in him.

Ephraim, in his corner, chose that moment to give a derisive snort.

Lucifer ignored him. The chains binding the Nephilim were made of demon steel - he’d had to make a quick trip down to Hell to get them, and it would take a long shower to get the smell of brimstone out of his hair and feathers, but hey, needs must and all that -, and there was nothing the little bugger could currently do except run his mouth. It was more entertaining than watching television, which was the only reason why he wasn’t gagged.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Lucifer finally said, frustrated with the English language that couldn’t convey even a broad approximation of what he truly wanted to express. “Staying away from her now would be worse than eventually losing her to time. Brother, I actually think that she’s.... healing me.”

Sachiel gave him another sad smile. “I’m glad.”

“Great, good, that’s settled, then,” Lucifer said quickly, before his little emo brother could embark on yet another one of his woe-is-me trips.  _Got it the first time, thank you. Don’t need the repeat nausea._

He rose. “Thanks for the drink, Sach, I must be going now. Spend more time with my consort, enjoy all the pleasures her presence offers me, and yes, that includes getting snarked at for not helping her with paperwork. She’s adorable when she’s pissed off.” He waved the empty bottle. “Remind me to replace this, with something a bit more top shelf, though. And do see to it that your spawn doesn’t escape. I’d hate having to hunt him down all over again.”

He tried to ignore the downtrodden expression in his little brother’s face as he left, promising himself that  _he’d_  never end up being so pathetic. Brooding was  _so_ unattractive.

 

* * *

 

“Right,” Chloe said, her hands hovering over the keyboard and looking up expectantly at her partner. “Next. Status of the suspect?”

A miracle had happened, sort of. Instead of wandering off to do his thing, now that he had completely recovered from his injuries, Lucifer had agreed to join her at the precinct and actually help her do some paperwork. Never one to look gift devils in the mouth, she didn’t question his motivation and instead gladly accepted his input, for however long this happy fortune would last.

As it had turned out pretty soon, though, it didn’t survive ten minutes, and he was back to being bored. But at least, he was still here, at her desk. So.

When the object of her question didn’t respond, she picked up a stray paper clip and threw it at him. “Lucifer!”

The Devil fished the paperclip out of its trajectory towards his head without even looking at it. “Well, thank you, Detective, very thoughtful of you.” He produced a long paper clip chain he had apparently been making while they worked, adding the one Chloe had tossed at him to its end and dangling the chain before her with a proud grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes. Some things never changed. “Status of suspect, Lucifer. We’re working here.”

“Right, yes, sorry, my love.” He sat up straighter and looked at her with his face all mock serious. “My misbegotten nephew is in the care of my imprudent brother, in his home, tied up with supernatural chains. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Right.” She typed,  _Suspect currently in lockup, location unknown._  “Threat level? …. Lucifer!” She swore to God that His son sometimes was more difficult to wrangle than Trixie ever had been. Okay, not just sometimes.

Said son of God had put his paper clip chain onto her desk and was pulling it into shapes that were decidedly NC-17 rated. “Hmm?” He looked up, giving her his most innocent expression. Since the Devil hadn’t been innocent for billions of years, his effort fell notably flat.

“Threat level of suspect?” she prompted him, ignoring the glinting metal penis on her desk.

He thought briefly. “On a scale of kitten to Angel of Death, I’d say tiger,” he mused, eyes on his paper clip chain and pulling the penis into something Chloe didn’t recognize and was sure she didn’t want to know. “Possibly shark. Tigershark. Sharktiger?”

It was a measure of the amount of time she had spent with him that she actually tried, for a few seconds, to translate that into a scale that would mean something to her superiors. Then she shook her head. “What I meant is, is he currently a threat, is he contained, should the department continue to worry about him?”

“He’s a bloody Nephilim, so yes, we should all continue to worry about him until his soul’s permanently banished from this plane of existence,” Lucifer said, picking the paper clip chain up again and threading it around and around his long fingers. The motion was strangely hypnotic. “But no, Sachiel’s got him under his wing, and he’s the Covering of God, meaning he’s pretty good at keeping a lid on someone, so he’s not gonna let him do anything nefarious in the near future. Say, for the next couple of decades.Well. Unless he kills himself in a fit of depression.”

She stared at him. He was so alien sometimes that it boggled her mind. “Lucifer, he’s your brother.”

The uncomprehending look in his eyes was very familiar to her by now, though. “I know,” he said. “And? So? Thus? Therefore?”

Seriously. She shouldn’t even have to mention this, but instead, she actually had to spell it out for him. “Family take care of each other when one is hurting. Help him, talk to him, spend time with him, show him that life goes on.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t know how to go about it,” he finally admitted. “Seeing Sach like that is thoroughly discomfiting. It gives me something like indigestion.”

“You knew what to do when he first turned up, though,” she reminded him. “You know. That adorable hug thing with the wings. Maybe that’s all you need to do.” She’d thought she’d finally gotten angel behavior when she witnessed that tender scene, both brothers finding comfort in each other’s touch. Surely, it couldn’t be so hard to just do that again.

He looked away briefly. “We’re not fledgling angels huddling together all the time anymore,” he said. “Besides, I haven’t been a bloody angel in ages. And anyway, I acted without thinking then. I don’t think I could do it on purpose, with a clear mind. I’m not even sure he’d welcome it.”

“Hmm.” Maybe Lucifer had been alone too long, she mused, been the Devil for too long. Maybe his instincts had become so atrophied that he didn’t know how to act like an angel anymore. The Devil certainly hadn’t cuddled anyone while down in Hell.

She’d have to talk to Amenadiel about this, get his take.

But meanwhile, time to get the report out of the way. She typed,  _Suspect unavailable to jurisdiction, but no further criminal activity anticipated at this point due to him being reliably contained elsewhere. Recommend to close the case._ Peering at the screen, she added, “I doubt that’s going to fly, but not much we can do about Ephraim right now, yeah? I suppose you don’t want to drag him into prison yourself…?”

He snorted. “Not much good that would do. He can traverse dimensions. He’d just fly right out again. Trust me, he’s much more secure where Sach can keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, I agree.” She saved the report and sent it to her superiors. “Right, that’s done. Thank you. We can go now.”

“First sensible thing you’ve said all day,” he commented, but then his native respect for the truth kicked in, prompting him to add, “Except for the thing you said in the shower, of course.”

Chloe blushed. She had said several things in the shower, none of which would be appropriate to repeat here.

Lucifer, noticing her blush, grinned like the Devil he was.

She was saved from having her reputation damaged by Lucifer’s Luciferness when one of the interns stuck his neck around the corner.

“Uh, … Lucifer?” Saunders began, and promptly got stuck.

Oh yeah. That was one thing that had changed. Since the precinct had become aware that the Devil truly walked among them, and that he was  _the_ Lucifer, calling him by his name had become an issue for some. After all, humanity had invented lots of ways to avoid this very thing, for fear of drawing the Devil’s attention to them. And now they were asked to forget thousands of years of social conditioning. Chloe could relate, and she wasn’t even religious.

Well. She was, in that she knew it was all true, but… What had been her point again?

Satan, meanwhile, took all this in his stride - Chloe doubted that he even noticed this change in attitude towards him. In this instance, he merely transferred his grin from blushing her to the blushing young man. “Hmm?”

“Sorry to, uh, interrupt,” Saunders stammered. “Can I…. Could I talk to you, later maybe? I have, like, a question, sort of.”

Lucifer sighed. “No, I won’t have sex with you; no, I probably don’t remember any of your relatives in Hell; and yes, we can talk about favors.” He peered at the young man. “That cover it?”

Saunder blushed harder. “Uh, no, actually. I was wondering… the, you know, Apocalypse….”

“Oh, bloody Hell, not that again.” Lucifer heaved another sigh. “No, me being up here isn’t a portent of the Apocalypse. Sorry. You don’t get to quit your day job and enjoy the last days of your life with sex and drugs. Well. Unless that’s what you really want, in which case, go for it, but don’t blame me if you find yourself addicted and out of funds a few months hence.”

“Oh.” Saunders gaped a few times, then recovered. “Right. Got it. Thanks. I was, uh, asking for a friend.”

“Right.” His tone conveyed that he didn’t believe that one for a second. “If you promise me that you won’t give me that ‘the Devil made me do it’ nonsense, I could set you up with some of the good stuff, though.”

Chloe didn’t even roll her eyes and contented herself with elbowing him. “Lucifer.”

He looked at her. “What?”

“Hello? Police precinct? Inappropriate?”

“Right.” He turned back to Saunders. “That last bit was off the record, obviously.”

By now, Saunders clearly didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t physically blush any harder. Finally, he pointed towards the aisle. “I’ll just… uh….”

“By all means,” Lucifer said magnanimously. “Off you pop, then.”

“How often does this happen?” Chloe asked him as soon as the young intern was out of earshot.

“How often does what happen?” Lucifer countered. “Me granting favors, or me getting asked funny questions?”

“The funny questions part,” she clarified.

He sighed. “Lately, every time I walk in here,” he said wearily, “about two dozen times per hour if you’re not around.” He frowned. “That never happened before. Honestly, it’s like nobody was listening when I first told everyone that I’m really the Devil. You humans really have selective hearing sometimes.”

Ignoring that, she narrowed her eyes. “Was that the reason why you agreed to do paperwork today? To get out of being quizzed about Devil-related stuff?”

“Of course, Detective. Win-win.” He gave her a soft smile. “It’s not like you didn’t get anything out of it.”

She couldn’t deny that. He’d actually been helpful with the part of her report that concerned Celestial affairs.

Lucifer, of course, was still stuck on his personal dilemma. “The worst part is, it’s really repetitive. I should start wearing a sign around my neck. Sort of an FAQ.”

She smiled. “Like, ‘Not Interested In Your Soul’?”

“Or, ‘The Lord Of Hell Is Not A Rolodex’,” he answered, grinning.

“Or,” she added, picking up speed, “In A Committed Relationship’?” She trailed off, realizing what she’d said. “I mean, we are, right?”

He looked at her, eyes wide.

Her heart essayed a standing gallop. Without meaning to, she’d phrased that in a way that gave him no out by resorting to omissions or half truths. If he couldn’t say yes, he’d have to evade the question entirely.

She actually didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t say yes.

But she needn’t have worried. His eyes softened. “I am, yes,” he said, voice as gentle as his gaze. “To my never ending amazement, I am bound to you body and soul, my Consort.”

She masked her dizzying relief by giving him a nod. “Yeah, um. Likewise.” Belatedly, she realized that this was sounding less than enthusiastic. Battling her native reticence all the way, she smiled, and added, “Let me rephrase that, actually. I love you, too.”

She’d told him that before, but his reaction was as stunned and joyful as if this was the first time. His whole face lit up, his eyes sparkled, his hands reached out to her, and he would have kissed her if Chloe had let him.

But she was on duty; they were in the precinct. She couldn’t.

Desisting, he contented himself with giving her an insolent grin and that damned tongue against the inside of his cheek.

She prevented herself from letting him sway her by swatting his shoulder.

“Ow,” he said, holding his upper arm like she’d grievously wounded him. “Mixed signals, Detective. Oh, unless you want to, you know…. Not here, obviously. Maybe later?” He gave her the Devil version of the puppy-dog eyes.

In the face of his big brown eyes, she couldn’t keep her glare going, so she instead allowed her expression to soften. “Maybe. If we can somehow find bindings that you can’t devil your way out of, that is.” Oh wow, look who had no filter today.

She had surprised him (and herself), because his eyes opened wide. “Challenge bloody accepted,” he said, grinning. “I’ve just been down to Hell to find something that will bind a Nephilim, I’m sure I can find something else that’ll keep even me contained. And I must say I like this unexpected naughty side of you, Chloe.”

She gaped. “Lucifer, that’s not… what I…” Her imagination chose to broadside her at that moment. The Devil, naked and bound, possibly begging. Air was suddenly a problem. Also, why had she thought that this was a bad idea again?

But no, still at the precinct. “We’ll discuss this later, yeah?” she forced out, resisting the urge to fan herself.

He grinned, assured in victory. “You bet we will.”

Right. Time to make her point. She dropped her voice, trying to look seductive. “But you have to promise me one thing, Lucifer.”

His eyes darkened. “Whatever you desire, my love.”

 _Gotcha._  “Promise me you’ll talk to your brother.”

He blinked, and opened his mouth.

She mentally replayed her words. No, not specific enough. She was dealing with the expert on getting out of badly-worded promises, after all. “To Sachiel, I mean,” she added quickly. “Promise me you’ll try to help him, okay? He needs you.”

He sighed. “He doesn’t need  _me,_  he needs a shoulder to cry on; doesn’t have to be mine.”

“You know that’s not true. The two of you are kind of in the same boat.”

He opened his mouth a few times, but he couldn’t lie, so he finally nodded. “Fine. I promise I’ll get Amenadiel to guard Ephraim and invite Sachiel over so he can make inroads into my bar. The stuff he has on hand is atrocious.”

She looked at him, keeping her expression neutral.

He looked back, and then he caved. “Yes, I’ll listen to him whine, and I’ll do my best to distract him from his woes.”

She kept looking.

“Oh,  _alright,_  I’ll give him a hug if he needs one.”

She smiled. “Great. That’s very kind of you, Lucifer. You’re acting like a proper big brother.”

He looked away, grumbling something under his breath that contained the words ‘hard bargain’.

She chose not to comment, knowing that this must be hard for him. He wasn’t unfeeling or unsympathetic by any means, but she had seen herself that offering comfort didn’t come naturally or easily to him, and she shouldn’t push him more than necessary.

Then something he’d just said came back to her. ‘I’ll do my best to distract him.’ “No strippers, Lucifer,” she admonished. “In fact, nobody else there except you and him.” She could see from his expression that he felt caught out, and she shook her head. “He’s lost the love of his life. Sex with strangers isn’t a good cure for that.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut in.

“Nor is sex with anyone he knows. He needs compassion, understanding. He needs to talk, to grieve, to have closure. At least I very much assume he does. You’re not that different from us humans, after all.”  _Though much less experienced with emotions for some reason_ , she didn’t add out loud.

He sighed as though she’d asked him to go abstain from sex himself. “Very well. I highly doubt it’ll do much good, but I’ll do as you say.” He brightened. “If it doesn’t work, though, I’ll do it my way.  _And_ we’ll have some bondage fun afterwards. Deal?”

Well, she had brought it on herself, hadn’t she. She’d somehow have to struggle through the experience of having the Devil at her mercy. What a hardship. “Deal,” she said, suppressing her grin.

This favors thing was  _fun._


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe watched Lucifer putter about his penthouse, biting her lip in indecision.

She knew that Sachiel would arrive any minute now, so she should probably be making herself scarce. It’d only be polite. She had no place here. In a way, this was about her as well, and her presence would only make it awkward.

However, she of all people was also aware that Lucifer wasn’t equipped to deal with this.

He’d even practically said as much. He’d mentioned feeling discomfited by seeing his brother so distraught, and even though she’d made him promise to leave the strippers out of it, she knew him well enough to guess that he still thought sex was the cure here, and, worse, that he couldn’t imagine why anyone would think it wasn’t.

Plus, she knew that, if she outright asked if she could stay, he wouldn’t say no. He probably wouldn’t even understand why she thought she had to ask. She’d be given permission as a matter of course, because Lucifer wouldn’t see the problem. Which wouldn’t make it any less inappropriate for her to be here, though, or any less awkward. No. Making the right choice was up to her. Lucifer wouldn’t be any help. Just like always.

She knew she wasn’t being fair. His social incompetence wasn’t his fault. Besides, she wasn’t even sure that _she_ knew the right way to act in this case. How do you comfort a grieving angel? If another angel, albeit a fallen one in this case, didn’t know, how was she supposed to?

Even Amenadiel, her go-to consultant on angel behavior, had been fresh out of advice. “Sach’s always been a little standoffish, even when we were young. And Luci’s never been one to offer comfort, not even back when he was still Samael, or to gladly receive it, for that matter. That would only have gotten worse with time. So, no, I don’t think Luci knows what to do. And frankly, neither do I know what Sachiel needs. If it were me, I’d just want to be left alone for a while to deal with this myself, but he’s not me, so I have no clue.”

_Well, gee, thanks._

The problem was, she felt obligated to stay. She felt like Lucifer would probably botch this if left to his own devices, and she’d have to be there to keep him in line. But still - inappropriate.

 _Well. How about going the direct approach and just ask him, then._ “Lucifer,” she said, “what’s your plan?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have one. I thought I’d play it by ear. There’s all sorts of emo movies, ice cream, chocolate, and fluffy blankets on standby. And, of course, this.” He pointed at his wall of booze.

That didn’t sound encouraging. Lucifer improvising usually resulted in a spectacle. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No strippers, I hope?”

He gave one of his explosive sighs. “No, my love, no strippers. I promised. I still think sex is a great cure for nearly all what ails us, but both Amenadiel and Doctor Linda agreed that, for some reason, in this case it’s not. I know you think the same thing, so I’m taking a non-characteristic majority vote.”

Well, wonders would never cease. “That’s actually great to hear,” she said.

He brightened immediately at her praise. “I am capable of listening to advice,” he said brightly, then paused for effect.

“It’s just that you don’t always take it,” she finished for him.

Grinning, he closed his mouth. “You know me too well,” he quipped. “But I do in this case. Sachiel won’t benefit from my own tried-and-true remedy, but only until such time as other methods have failed. That was the deal.”

A-hah. She’d known that he’d try to find a loophole. “Lucifer,” she said earnestly, “promise me you’re not going to call in the strippers five minutes after Sachiel gets here because you’ve decided that ‘other methods have failed’.”

He opened his mouth.

“Or two hours later, or whatever,” she intercepted him.

His thwarted expression told her everything she needed to know.

 _Right. Time for the big guns._ “Promise me you’ll try, honestly and to the full extent of your ability, to help your brother out tonight without resorting to sex in any way, shape, or form. At all. Promise.”

He grimaced, then nodded. “Very well. I give you my word. It’ll all be boringly G-rated.”

She thought that he was looking properly defeated, so she could probably trust him not to try to weasel out again. Maybe it really was safe to leave now. “Okay, thank you. Uh, you know you can call me anytime if you need advice.”

“I do know that.” He gave her a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Her doubts must have shown in her face, because he added, “If all else fails, I’ll just pour booze down his throat until he passes out.”

“Lucifer.”

“Kidding! Well, mostly. I doubt even I have enough booze on hand for that to happen. No, seriously, I’ll be fine, my love. We’ll both be.” He tilted his head to one side. “Why are you so worried about my idiot brother, anyway?”

That brought her up short. Why, indeed? She barely knew Sachiel, and, as she was well aware, this was none of her business. So why was she so invested in Lucifer doing the right thing to help him? “He’s your brother,” she said, feeling her way. “That sort of makes him family for me as well. And I know you and your tendency to…” She trailed off, considering and discarding ways to phrase this.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“... To be inappropriate,” she finished, lamely. She elbowed him gently. “You do know that empathy isn’t your strong suit, right?”

He couldn’t really contest that, so he merely nodded, smiling softly.

There was really nothing she could add to that. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Try and be as appropriate as you can be, okay?” she admonished him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Lucifer watched the Detective leave, enjoying the view even as he regretted her impending absence and wondering what she might have meant. Having sex to stave off uncomfortable emotions _was_ appropriate, and effective, as he could attest. He still didn’t quite get why she was so averse to the idea.

But oh well. His word was his bond. That plan of action was clearly off the table now.

He took a look around and decided that he was as ready as he’d ever be. Humans put great stock in chocolate’s almost mystical healing powers, so he’d bought about a year’s supply. It would have to do.

Not even five minutes later, Sachiel arrived on his balcony in a flurry of wings. To Lucifer’s intense relief, he didn’t look like he’d been crying recently. So far, so good. That was really the only thing he thought he couldn’t deal with, offered shoulder to cry on or no.

“Hello, Brother,” he greeted Sach cautiously, in case something he said would set him off. “Come on in, make yourself at home, name your poison.”

Tucking away his wings, Sachiel advanced with a smile on his face that seemed worryingly brittle to Lucifer and plunked himself down on the couch. “Thank you for inviting me into your home, Luci,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after what I did.”

Lucifer waved a magnanimous hand. “You sinned, you took responsibility, and now you repent. That’s all anyone can expect, even Dad.” He grimaced. “Well. Except when it comes to me, obviously.”

“No,” Sachiel said, “I meant after. I shouldn’t have tried to tell you how to live your life.”

That brought Lucifer up short. “Why on earth would that make me refuse to see you again?”

Sachiel gave him a funny smile. “We may not have seen each other in a while, Brother, but I remember you not taking kindly to being told what to do, or what not to do. In fact, you always ended up going the exact other way, and your rants about it were spectacular.”

“I do not rant,” Lucifer protested.

This garnered him another funny smile. “No, you rebel.” His eyes opened wide comically. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to offend.”

At that point, Lucifer realized that Sach was as cautious around him as he was around Sach. Well, this was ridiculous. “Right,” he said brightly, “by all means, let’s get you up to speed, then. Contrary to what you may think of me, I do not fly off the handle when someone tells me what to do. I do take advice, from humans, even. Provided it makes sense, of course.”

Sachiel opened his mouth.

“I’m even in therapy,” Lucifer went on before his little brother could get a word in edgewise. Sometimes, that was really the only way to go about it. “Doctor Linda says I’m making progress. And Chloe….” As always, just saying her name made his heart do funny things. “She’s always telling me what to do. I’ve learned so much from her, but I don’t deny that I still have a long…. What is it?”

Sachiel had turned away, and Lucifer realized his mistake too late.

“Oh, bloody Hell,” he said softly, “please, not that again. I’m sorry, alright? I won’t mention her name again.” He looked around, realizing that all the Kleenex was in his bedroom, to be used during much more pleasurable pursuits. Poor planning on his part, that.

“No, I’m sorry,” Sachiel said wetly, wiping his eyes and giving him a tremulous smile. “This is so tiresome. I bore myself by now, believe me.” He took a deep breath and expelled it again noisily. “I do wish there was a trick to get over it faster, but apparently, all I can do is give it time.”

Lucifer nodded, wondering whether he would be required to offer his shoulder now and hoping not. “I hear chocolate works,” he said instead. “Releases pleasure hormones in humans, apparently. Maybe it does in us as well.” He made a long arm and put the Belgian chocolates in front of his weepy brother. “I prefer other ways of triggering pleasurable feelings, but I was made to promise I wouldn’t go there, so. Here. Please.” Nice use of the passive voice, he praised himself. Managed to avoid saying Chloe’s name neatly there.

Sachiel reached for a praline with the air of someone who was out of all other options.

“So,” Lucifer said, watching him put it in his mouth, “what are you doing with your existence, apart from, you know…?” Back in the Silver City, Sachiel had always been a quiet, studious type, but Lucifer also remembered a few instances that had hinted at a razor-sharp wit. There had been that board game they’d invented (Lucifer hadn’t liked it much, so he hadn’t played often) that Sachiel had excelled at, much to Amenadiel’s disgust. The big lout had never taken well to being second best at anything.

 _Librarian,_ Lucifer guessed. _Office worker. Something quiet and indoors, in any case._

Sachiel had closed his eyes in bliss. “Hmm,” he hummed, “this is delicious.” He opened his eyes to look at Lucifer. “I’m a painter,” he said. “Actually have my own studio, but I’m mostly out and about with my easel, the way it’s supposed to be done.”

 _Bloody Hell,_ Lucifer thought, glad he hadn’t made a bet with himself. He hated losing bets, even to himself. “How amazingly angelic of you,” he quipped.

Sachiel merely nodded at Lucifer’s baby grand, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘you were saying?’.

He didn’t dignify that with a reaction. He’d been the angel of music back in the Silver City, so he’d just stayed true to himself. Sach, though, had been the angel of boredom, now turned painter. Not the same thing at all.

“That doesn’t pay your bills, though, does it?” Lucifer added, scenting a possible favor. Lucifer Morningstar, art patron. Had a ring to it.

Sachiel grabbed another chocolate. Lucifer was glad to notice that he was already looking much less stricken. Apparently, this whole pleasure hormones thing was working as advertised. “Actually, it does,” he said. “Or at least, it’s beginning to. People are coming to my vernissages. Asking prices are rising. I’ve had a few commissions. I’m more than breaking even, now.” He grimaced. “Pain is good for creating art, apparently, so.” He put the chocolate in his mouth, clearly to stave off another bout of the weeps, and just when he’d been doing so well, too.

Lucifer watched him to see whether it was working. When, half a minute later, Sach still hadn’t dissolved in tears, he slowly relaxed. “True,” he answered, remembering Uriel. “And it also helps with -” _feelings? No. Pain? - Absolutely not._ “... stuff,” he finished lamely.

Sachiel threw him a searching glance that Lucifer did his best to return with a blank look. _Nothing to see here, little bro. Move along. I am not doing the whole you share your pain I’ll share mine thing. Nope. N-o. Old news, buried and forgotten. Well, buried, at least._

To his intense relief, Sachiel let it go without comment. “I know,” he said softly. “Only problem with that, I can’t paint very well with my eyes leaking all the time.”

Lucifer had no idea what to say to that, so he covered by grabbing one of the pralines. Oh, and maybe it was time to break out the booze. “Drink?” he asked through the sweet goo in his mouth.

“Please,” Sach said, leaning back and actually looking like he was getting comfortable, which was definite progress in Lucifer’s book.

They drank (top shelf single malt this time), and for a few minutes, neither of them said a word.

“So,” Sachiel said, just when Lucifer was beginning to relax, “how about you? How can you afford all this?” He gestured at the penthouse at large. “Is being a club owner really that lucrative?”

Lucifer grinned. “Rethinking your choice of career?” he quipped. “I could pull a few strings. You could open an art café or somesuch. Humans love their pleasures, and it pays to cater to more than one of those if money’s what you’re after.”

Aaand there was that sad smile again. “Thanks for the offer, Luci,” Sach said morosely, “maybe I’ll consider it in a few years, or whenever I don’t feel like crying all the time anymore. Right now... “ He trailed off as his throat closed up, and Lucifer felt a mini pit opening up in his stomach.

He pushed the chocolates towards his little brother hopefully.

Sach gave him a tremulous smile and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I certainly didn’t come here to….” His featured twisted into a caricature of the Sad Clown, and he very adequately hid them behind his hands.

Strangely, though, Lucifer didn’t find it funny at all. His little brother was clearly in distress, and whether he liked the thought or not, ending up just like him in the foreseeable - but studiously ignored - future was inevitable. In fact, something inside of him was slowly forming a painful knot, and the backs of his eyes were stinging.

 _Unless I can wrangle another favor out of Dad, and we all know how often_ that _happens, this will be me in just a few short decades, at the latest. Wouldn’t I be grateful for someone being there for me then?_

Besides, wasn’t that just what Chloe would want him to do?

“Oh bloody Hell,” he muttered, “don’t be sorry, Sach. Just… come here.”

He ended up with an armful of little brother before he could draw breath for another word, and, even more strangely, it was amazingly easy from there on out.

 

* * *

 

“So, how did it go?” Chloe finally asked. They were dancing around each other preparing breakfast in her kitchen, and so far, Lucifer had failed to mention any details about his meeting with Sachiel.

She fully expected him to start moaning about how awful dealing with all those pesky feelings had been, how his weepy brother had ruined his Armani, or how he’d have to restock his bar.

What she didn’t expect was the soft smile that lit up his face. “I left him asleep on my couch, and not in the way I normally leave people asleep,” he said without looking up from his task of mixing pancake batter.

“Ew,” she commented, but her heart wasn’t in it.

He gave her another smile, the one she liked to think was reserved just for her, before focusing on the bowl again as he checked the batter consistency. “He cried nonstop for what felt like a geological age, telling me all the while how he’d never be happy again, how the sun wasn’t shining as brightly - even though I kept telling him that the sun is fine and I should know -, how he was somehow wounded and slowly dying from it, how Maria was the most perfect human that Dad had ever created - I felt obliged to contradict him there -, and how his life was basically over and he would, from now on, just wait for his existence to end. So far so clichéd.”

Chloe nodded encouragingly, guessing that that wasn’t all. He would sound and look much more exasperated and frazzled if it was.

“When he wouldn’t shut up despite all the chocolate in his mouth, I figured that I might as well squeeze everything out, you know, like lancing a boil,” he went on, finding a pan and putting it on the stove. “So I asked him what had been so great about her, seeing as he had left that out so far. He expounded on her virtues while a minor ice age came and went.”

She smiled, taken out of his narrative by the realization that he had actually seen geological ages pass. He was the Devil, ancient and eternal. The knowledge still had a habit of broadsiding her.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was waiting for the pan to heat. “I must admit that, while his Maria was no miracle - unlike certain people not a million miles away -, I sort of understand what he’d been seeing in her. Anyway, he finally ceased his crying about halfway through a story of how they’d been shopping and he’d been startled by some loudspeaker announcement or other and his wings came out, toppling over a can pyramid, and she didn’t stop laughing until they were both in bed hours later.”

Chloe suppressed a grin. She could recall one or two instances of Lucifer accidentally knocking things over with his wings in her apartment, and, yes, it totally was funny (unless it happened while they were having sex, in which case it was really, really hot).

“So,” Lucifer went on, “this triggered another tidal wave of anecdotes lasting about an interglacial, and between us, we actually decimated my chocolate supply significantly. In the end, he was smiling, drowsy, and comfortable in our impromptu nest, so I called it a job well done and left him there to take care of my night job. I guess he’s still asleep.”

“That actually does sound like a job well done,” Chloe said, impressed. Then she paused. “Did you just say ‘nest’?”

He grinned. “Let me guess, you’re thinking down-cushioned twig construction, or possibly pillow fort, right?”

She returned his grin with a fond smile. “I’m remembering our tent and all the sleeping bags and blankets we had spread out, and your wings. So, lots of fluffy blankets and two angels cuddling in the middle of them on your sofa with their wings out.” She considered, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m imagining. How far am I off?”

He smiled. “Not that far off, my love.”

“I see. I assume nobody took a photo.”

“Nope. Sorry.” His eyes took on an added glint. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Oh yeah, the deal. Her part of it, involving restraints and a naked Devil, was still pending. She felt her diaphragm descend in a slow, deep breath and her heart skip a beat as she mentally searched her schedule for at least three consecutive free hours. “Guess it wasn’t,” she managed to say with a fairly even voice.

“Glad we agree on that,” he said, eyes noticeably darker. Clearly, his thoughts were descending into the same territory hers had. “Do we also agree that I’ve fully delivered my part of it?”

“Hmm,” she said, “depends. Did you get the restraints?” Just saying the word actually made her a little breathless. Clearly, she had hidden depths she hadn’t been aware of.

His grin acquired another level of devilishness. “I went to Hell early today, and, yes, I found something that will be adequate to the task. I’ve stashed it in my bedroom, so, whenever you’re ready. _Detective._ ”

“Very good, _Lucifer._ ”

His breath stalled for a second or two.

She could already tell that it was going to be a very long day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the plot part of this story. Thanks for reading!  
> The next part will be pure smut with added fluff, so, in case you want to avoid that, hit the back button now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here? Good.
> 
> This is the smut chapter. I didn't want to put the warnings into the story tags, so here they are now:
> 
> Bondage - Wing Bondage - BDSM Overtones But Not Really - Edging - Orgasm Delay - Oral Sex - Mentions of Dry Orgasms
> 
> Proceed at your discretion. :)

 

“Wow,” Chloe said. “This thing is… ugly.”

It really was the only word for it. Massive and hulking, the contraption that now took up a large amount of space in Lucifer’s bedroom was made from some dark metal that might or might not be steel, cobbled together by some coarse welding technique that might involve dragon breath from the looks of it, and inlaid with symbols that bore only a passing resemblance to any letters she was familiar with. It had shackles, sort of, for the subject’s neck, torso, and limbs; it had numerous joints and wheels and sliding adjustment levers for optimum immobilization of a wide variety of physiques and numbers of limbs, even sockets to fasten whatever mysterious accessories apparently came with it. If anything, it looked like a device for torture rather than a bondage device.

At least, it had been thoroughly cleaned; there were no obvious traces of blood or any other liquids on it. That would have been a turnoff of epic proportions.

Lucifer grinned, patting the thing fondly. “That it certainly is. It’s a disciplinary measure for Hell’s most powerful denizens.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure that this is what I had in mind, Lucifer,” she ventured.

“I know it’s not,” he said earnestly. “But it’s the only thing that will fit requirements. Nothing made here on Earth will hold me. This thing will, though.” He patted it again. “Oh yes, it most certainly will.”

“It looks like a torture rack.”

“It _is_ a torture rack.” He grinned again, looking oddly proud. “Its provenance is Hell, and Hell isn’t about giving pleasure. You won’t find padded fluffy handcuffs or anatomically shaped dildos or even lube anywhere in my former kingdom. Being able to tie me up was part of your deal, so it’s either something like this or nothing at all.”

 _True, but…._ She still didn’t like this at all. “Lucifer….”

“But,” he went on, “as with most things, it’s not what it was made for, but what you do with it that’s important. It can keep me immobile, and that’s all it will do this time.”

She continued to look at him, telling herself that he didn’t lie. “Are you really okay with this?” she asked directly.

“Yes, my love,” he said immediately. “Absolutely. I know you will release me when you think it’s time. That’s all that matters.”

His words and the intense look in his dark eyes actually made her a little short of breath. “Okay,” she said faintly. Sometimes, the fact that the Devil trusted her so much was overwhelming. “Show me how it works, then.”

“Very well.”

He proceeded to take her through the functions of all the movable parts while Chloe realized that she had given him an order outside of police work, and he was following it without question. It gave her a kind of rush she hadn’t experienced before.

Her doubts returned briefly when he explained how _this_ part was made to break the subject’s left humerus while _that_ part, if fully extended, would rupture one of the subject’s inner organs, but he reassured her practically in the same breath by showing her how to avoid doing all that and by removing all the bits they wouldn’t need and throwing them to one side, where they landed, clattering, in a heap of hellish metal.

Working the shackles, at least, seemed pretty straightforward.

“Okay,” she finally said, turning her mind firmly away from torture and towards pleasure. “I believe you’ll need a safeword.”

“Monkeybottoms,” he said without hesitation, grinning like the fiend he never quite had been. “I won’t need it, though.”

“Okay,” she said again. “Anything you don’t like?” It was a stupid question considering who she was asking, but she had read up on the subject and wanted to do it by the book.

“I don’t like anything you’re not comfortable with, my love,” he said, again without having to think about it. “I mean it. Most of all, I want _you_ to have fun with this. Your wild youth notwithstanding, I doubt you’ve ever done anything quite like this before.”

“No,” she admitted. “I’ve thought about it a lot recently, though.”

“Really.” He grinned. “I’d wager that I can take much more than you’d be comfortable dishing out, but this should be good for both of us. So, just stay within your limits, alright?”

“I’m not going to really hurt you, then,” she said quickly. “No blood. I couldn’t.”

He nodded easily. “As you wish, my love.”

She remembered slapping his cheek, how he had cringed, and how he had immediately asked her to do it again. It had felt too strange to think about in any depth then, so she’d decided to ignore the memory entirely.

But now, it was time to bring it back, and to build from there.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was removing his clothes, folding them neatly. She couldn’t help but notice that he was already partially aroused from the situation alone.

His visible anticipation made her experience a moment of blind panic. She’d be the one in control. So many things that she could do wrong. She wanted this so much, but she had no experience in this scene, like, at all. What if she spoiled the experience for him, for them both?

Also, she would be _tying the Devil down._ He wouldn’t be able to get free again without her help. No one should have this much power. Who did she think she was?

While she was trying not to let her misgivings show on her face, Lucifer was lowering the contraption and tilted it vertical so he could step into it facing her, legs spread, hips canted forward, arms out to his sides. His breathing was a little faster than normal, and Chloe wondered whether that was all from arousal, or whether he was maybe a little afraid.

“This is so surreal,” she said, trying to break the tension. She wanted to have fun, dammit.

He looked at her. The open shackles painted nearly geometrical shadows across his currently vulnerable skin as he gave her a fond smile. “It’s only surreal until it’s happened for the first time,” he said, casually spewing forth one of his infrequent morsels of wisdom that proved that, despite his apparent childishness and inexperience with human emotions, he was indeed billions of years old.

 _What’s the worst that can happen?_ Chloe wondered. _He’s the Devil, older than time itself. He knows the worst that can happen, and he’s okay with it._

She returned his smile. “Right.”

Time to get into her part.

She looked him over as he stood within the embrace of the device, vulnerable flesh encased by implacable metal. Shackles for his arms, shackles for his legs. _Something’s missing._

“Wait,” she said. “Lean forward.”

He did, not even questioning her, lowering his eyes as he bent at the waist, presenting her his now flawless back.

She tapped him between his shoulder blades. “Out with your wings.”

Again, he complied without hesitation, and she stepped aside as they appeared and unfurled, long and white and beautiful.

“Leave them out, and lean back in.”

He settled into the device, wings extended to his sides, placing his arms and legs inside the open shackles, and she ran her hands over his face, down his neck, and snapped the shackle around his neck closed. Then the same with his torso, both arms, both legs.

He stood, bound. Only his wings remained free.

She grabbed one of them with both hands, feeling the hard ridge of bone and the warm, sinewy strength beneath the soft feathers, and guided it to one of the remaining fixtures, extending it and fitting it into the outermost shackle, closing the mechanism with a snap to immobilize the wing tip, quickly followed by the second shackle near his wing shoulder.

His other wing trembled, the feathers puffing and fluttering softly. She could hear him inhale on a gasp. When she looked at his face, his eyes were closed and his mouth open.

Warmth flooded her at that sight, surprising her with how good it felt.

Oh yes, this was going to work.

His other wing, his only remaining free limb, seemed to put up a slight resistance as she pushed it towards the shackles, just enough to be noticeable. Instinctively, Chloe increased the strength of her grip, holding the wing immobile. “Don’t fight me,” she said softly, with a warning undertone.

He could have defied her, of course. He might be vulnerable in her presence, but he still had his supernatural strength. Even with the aid of just one wing, he could still have gotten free at this point, and she was well aware of that.

Instead, he actually groaned his surrender in response to her words, and the sound went straight to her groin. The resistance from his wing vanished, and with two quick consecutive snaps, the Devil was completely bound.

He was panting now, muscles bunching up as he strained against the restraints in a brief but intense effort, testing them, his fast breathing faltering and his muscles relaxing hopelessly as he realized that he really was trapped.

She watched him, wondering how that made him feel. Had he ever been on the receiving end of this contraption before? More importantly, was he okay? He didn’t safeword; not that she’d really expected him to considering how much his body was obviously enjoying all this, so she concluded that he was still fine.

“How’s that?” she asked outright.

He looked at her, pulling on the restraints again. “I can’t get out,” he stated, sounding both pleased and surprised, as if he hadn’t been sure that the device could really contain him. “It’s bloody brilliant.” One last time, he strained against the shackles, muscles bunching to no avail, then he quieted. Waiting.

“Very good,” she praised him, running one hand over his chest and down his abdomen and one thigh, feeling the muscles quiver beneath her touch as his immobilized body responded helplessly to the stimulation.

She realized then that she wouldn’t even have to hurt him to give him what he needed, and relief flooded her.

Without warning, she tilted the device backwards so he was half standing, half lying at an angle, his feet no longer touching the ground, suspended from his shackles. Instinctively, he tried to flap his wings to right himself, the wing muscles in his chest straining and his wings pressing up against their restraints with their primaries fanning. She reached out to smooth them, stroking along the softness of the coverts, both to calm him and to let him feel that she was in control.

She locked the axle in that position, and his hot gaze found hers, holding it for a few seconds.

Then, he waggled his eyebrows at her, giving her a lazy smile.

 _Right_ , she thought. _Time to wipe that grin off his face._

 

* * *

 

She had stepped back a bit, contemplating him in all his restrained and aroused glory, and over the background thrum of increasing lust, Lucifer experienced a thrill of pride mixed with another emotion he tentatively labeled dismay.

He sighed. Gone were the days when his feelings had been simple. Pride, rage, delight - the primary colors of his emotions. Nowadays, though, there were many hues tinting his feelings all over the spectrum. Most of them had to do with her, of course.

He was proud of her for even going along with this. She had it in her; he had felt it practically the moment he’d met her, but her inhibitions had held her back so far. At the same time, though, he was dismayed, because he was afraid that he might be somehow tainting her.

That would be the most despicable crime. He wanted her to test her boundaries, yes, but if that resulted in her beautiful, truly good soul corrupted by him and by what had made him Fall in the first place, then he would never forgive himself.

There was a brief moment when he actually considered safewording and stopping this entire thing, but then her hand touched him right where he needed it, and all rational thought fled as his arousal roared into sharp focus. And Dear Dad, had she gotten good at teasing him.

“Oh, you like this,” she whispered, “don’t you.”

He nodded vigorously, or as much as the shackle around his neck allowed. He bloody loved it. Being bound and unable to move alone was exciting, both literally and figuratively. Plus, she knew exactly what to do, how to time her touches, where to place her fingers and when, how much pressure and how much friction to give him to fan the flames of pleasure into a raging inferno, how far to take him to the edge to make him squirm and yearn for release but not achieve it, to make him mindlessly strain against the restraints because he needed _just a little more -_

And then she took her hand and his pleasure away, again at exactly the right moment. _Really,_ really _good teasing there, my Consort._ He groaned and cursed in Enochian while lust battered his mind and his body slowly receded from its near-orgasm.

“What was that?” she asked. He could hear the smile in her voice and realized that he had closed his eyes.

He dragged his lids back open. “Nothing,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “Please, continue.”

“Hmm. You sure?” she said, equally casually. “Because that’s looking really uncomfortable.” She directed her gaze at the source of his torment.

He snorted. Oh yes, it was uncomfortable. In fact, he’s use stronger words to describe the aching sensation of urgency that made it impossible for him to stay still. “I said ‘please',” he pointed out even as arousal was beginning to compromise his command of the English language.

“That you did,” she said, in the same tone of voice she might use to say ‘good Devil’. “Well, in that case….”

And her hand was back on him.

It became twice as bad twice as quickly. He made a sound he hadn’t thought himself capable of as her expert touches brought him right back to the edge within seconds, and he would have climaxed then and there despite his usual control over his body or his intention to draw this out for as long as possible. She eased up just in time, her fingers now barely brushing his aching skin.

He couldn’t come from just that, but she didn’t stop her touches, so he couldn’t come back from the edge, either. He was caught, snagged, suspended between excruciating need and mind-blowing release.

And she kept him right there, relentlessly, as the minutes passed.

He made that sound again, because there was nothing else he could do. Fortunately, he wasn’t expected to be particularly eloquent right now.

The touches on his aroused flesh continued inexorably, changing just enough to keep his need acute, but never enough to sate it. He wondered whether he could actually pass out from this.

He hoped not. This was _delightful._

 

* * *

 

Chloe watched the changing expressions on his face for cues on when it would be time to stop with the teasing and let him come. So far, though, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and that was how it was supposed to be. She was going to blow his mind with pleasure until he was so blissed out that he became incoherent, and from the sounds he was making, he was halfway there already.

Usually, when they made love, it was all about her. Whatever she needed, whatever she desired, he gave it to her with no thought about himself, like his own needs didn’t matter, and she was pretty sure that he’d been left not entirely satisfied at least once.

 _Not tonight, Satan._ This time he wouldn’t take control the way he usually did. She’d wanted to do something like this for him for ages, and now that she actually had him at her mercy, she wasn’t stopping until she’d wrung him dry.

Watching him come undone like this, suspended on the very edge of climax, was turning her on immensely, and she’d already resolved that at least one of his orgasms would happen inside of her. All she’d need to do was tilt this contraption horizontal and climb on top of him, ride him until he couldn’t help but come. While he couldn’t make any move to distract her with her own pleasure, like he normally did.

Oh yeah, getting rid of her clothes at some point would probably be a good idea. But first….

She removed her hand from his twitching flesh, eliciting a torturous groan of protest, and stepped between his immobilized legs to take his hard length into her mouth.

After having been kept on the edge for so long with tiny, careful touches, the feel of her lips and tongue full on him, together with a brief suction, was all it took to push him over. He came with a shout, his orgasm powerful and sustained after having been kept waiting for so long, and she managed to keep it going even longer by licking him in all the right places while his muscles seized and the feathers on his wings puffed and smoothed out again and he gasped and moaned his wordless, enthusiastic approval.

_One down, five more to go. At least._

 

* * *

 

There was a motionless heap of skin and curls and feathers lying on Lucifer’s bed.

Amused, Chloe sat the glass of water down on his nightstand to have both hands free for crawling onto the bed to said heap. It didn’t respond when the mattress dipped.

Still smiling, she snuggled in close to it, slipping her fingers into the feathers to stroke the soft, hot skin beneath, which elicited no movement but at least a soft humming sound.

“Oh good,” she whispered. “You’re still alive. I was getting worried.”

He hummed again. The small coverts on his wing that had puffed out a little at her touch slowly flattened again.

“Thirsty?” She slipped her other hand into his unruly curls to stroke him there, softly, like petting a kitten.

He made the exact same humming sound.

“That a yes or a no?”

_Hummm._

He was so adorable right now that it made her chuckle. “Seems I broke the Devil,” she said softly. “Oops.”

His feathers shifted as he slowly raised his wing in invitation, one arm extending towards her, curling around her and drawing her into his warmth, the wing settling on top of them both.

She made herself comfortable, threading her legs through his and finding places for her arms and hands on and around his body and underneath his wing, feeling thoroughly accomplished and more than a little exhausted.

Bringing him into his current state had literally taken hours and pulling all the stops in her sexual repertoire as well as inventing new ones. He hadn’t exaggerated about his stamina, but even Lucifer had his limits, and after eight (she’d counted) orgasms and two consecutive dry ones, he had finally reached them. When she opened the shackles, he’d practically toppled out of the restraining device and onto his bed and hadn’t moved since.

“I take it we’re even,” she whispered, kissing his temple.

He muttered something that wasn’t in English she took to be an affirmative.

“And just so you know,” she added, settling down in his arms and closing her eyes, “I hope nobody needs that thing down in Hell, ‘cause I am _not_ giving it back.”


End file.
